Among the ancient professions, one of the most picturesque ones was the
banditore (announcer). This typical character would go around the streets of
the village, or would stop at specific places where people would gather and,
loudly enunciating his words, informed everyone about the latest laws and news
released by the government. If vendors were coming or if people from the village
or from other villages were holding a rally, the banditore was the one
who informed the people. No one had a phone and the cellphone had not been
invented yet.

The fastest and most efficient means of disseminating information was the
banditore.

Our banditore was called F‏ù;
it was a nickname which he had had forever and no one could remember his real
name. Fù was an spry little man; I always remember him dressed in black, a
little bent over the under the weight of his age.

He lived alone in a big old house, with a courtyard and a garden.

You could see that it had been a beautiful house back in the day, but now it was
in ruins.

Fù lived there like a king.

When Fù had to make announcement, he would wear the official cap of the
banditore. It was a black cap with a brim and with a design embroidered on
it in gold thread. It was an old worn out cap; it no longer kept its form and
the lining was in tatters. But he would wear it as if it was the cap of a great
leader. In the winter, he would wear be wrapped in a big scarf. When he wrapped
it around himself and put on his cap, all you could see of his face were his two
bright eyes.

As soon as a vendor came to the village, Fù would arrive in the square, followed
by a crowd of kids. He would inspect the products and if everything was to his
satisfaction, he would take to the streets to praise those products and proclaim
them high quality items. "Attention! Attention!” he shouted. He had a little
trumpet attached to him by a golden woven cord. He played it loudly and stood
tall, as if he was leading a march of trumpeters.

As soon as they heard his trumpet, the housewives’ heads would pop out the
windows of their houses or even stop what they were doing walk closer to pay
more attention. Then they would rush over, with their apron pulled up and with
its corners tied to their belt to create a sort of makeshift shopping bag to
place the purchases of the goods that Fù had praised. After his job was done, he
would return home to take care of his daily affairs.

One day some mean boys stole his trumpet. He locked himself in his house and
refused to make announcements until his trumpet was recovered and returned. Then
one day even old Fù went to heaven where the angels welcomed him with new and
shiny trumpets, playing heavenly melodies. He laughed and raised his hand with
his trumpet in a triumphal salute. It was only during the funeral that I learned
that his name was Vincenzo. The villagers came in large numbers to join the
procession to accompany Vincent on to his eternal rest.